


Seen (and Unseen)

by Penguin_Lord



Series: Supernatural Consequences [1]
Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, Scooby Doo Where Are You! (Cartoon), What's New Scooby-Doo? (Cartoon)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguin_Lord/pseuds/Penguin_Lord
Summary: AKA: Five Times Mystery Inc. Unknowingly Interacted with the Supernatural and One Time They NoticedMystery Inc. has been a fully fledged music sensation for some time. They are slowly beginning to realize their music attracts not only mundane fans, but also ones of the supernatural variety as well.
Series: Supernatural Consequences [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829659
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Seen (and Unseen)

**Author's Note:**

> Some months ago, while mindlessly digging yet another sterile SP, I had the sudden inspiration needed to continue my original Scooby Doo story, Unintended Consequence. The inspiration sprang from the final lines of Unintended Consequences, where I foreshadowed the gang would eventually met the Loch Ness Monster. Then my brain went 'What if their music attracts the supernatural and that's how they met Nessie?' and thus the idea for Seen (and Unseen) was born. 
> 
> My knowledge of Scooby-Doo comes from every Scooby-Doo media that pre-dates 2006, with a couple exceptions. That being said, doesn't all Scooby-Doo exist in some nebulous universe where the passage of time goes unremarked?
> 
> This is a five plus one format. It will have a sequel (which is 95% written but needs some heavy duty editing).

**One.**

A brightly painted, flamboyant green, blue, and red painted van drove flashed through the trees along a curvy mountainous road. Mystery Inc., driving their iconic van, followed a winding river through the Cascade Range with the eventual goal of ending up in Nevada City, Montana.

Fred’s cousin, owner and proprietor of Lockwood Bed and Breakfast, was in desperate need of their sleuthing abilities. A ghostly gunslinger was appearing at random, scaring away locals and tourists alike. He needed Mystery Inc. to solve the case before the summer tourist season was completely ruined by the spectral shooter.

They had been in Seattle, solving the case of a counterfeit ring working out of Pike’s Place Market. Getting to Nevada City required them to traverse the whole of Washington, loop up into Northern Idaho, descend through Western Montana and then split south into the quiet twin mining communities of Virginia City and Nevada City, forever stuck in time. 

They stopped for lunch in Williamsburg, Washington, an out of the way town, a quiet community forgotten by time, shrouded in moss and fir trees. They ate a spontaneous picnic in the town’s only park, a quiet green space near the town’s combination city hall, police station, and library. 

After lunch, Velma drifted off to check out a small plaque at the northwest corner of the park, near a truly enormous chestnut tree. 

“What does it say, Velma?” Daphne asked.

“It says Williamsburg was founded by Silas Williams. He and his wife, Myra Ann, came here in 1873 and established a homestead at the site of this park. They planted this chestnut in 1892. The town grew up around the paper mill they built along the Tamarack River. It’s located about a mile downstream. Their homestead burned in 1953 and the park, Silas Williams Park, was established in it’s footprint. They have an old photo of the house.”

“Zoinks, that’s super cool.” Shaggy said, bounding up to take a look. 

Velma and Shaggy scrutinized the old black and white photo, showing an old single story farmhouse, the chestnut tree, much smaller, off to the side. Standing in front was an old woman. The caption underneath read “Myra Ann Williams standing in front of Williams Homestead, circa 1905”.

“It’s neat they have the picture.” Velma said thoughtfully.

“Groovy,” Shaggy agreed. 

Fred and Scooby remained on the picnic blanket as Daphne came over to join Shaggy and Velma in front of the information plaque. While the three were distracted, Fred ideally tapped his hand on the picnic basket. Scooby heard the rhythm and joined in, thumping his tail on the ground. Fred noticed and started to actually pay attention to his beat. Fred mimed playing an air guitar, whistling out tunes with his finger motions, trying this or that. 

“Whatchya working on?” Shaggy, finished reading the plaque for himself, asked as he came back to the picnic blanket. 

“Rew rong! Rew rong!” Scooby cried. 

“Like Scooby said, we’re workshopping a new song.” Fred agreed. 

“What’s this one about?” Daphne rejoined the group.

“I was thinking about Charlie. You remember, the robot at Funland?” 

“Sure I remember him. Do you already have ideas for lyrics?”

“Just a couple lines but one of this goes really well with a guitar part I was thinking about.”

Daphne grabbed a couple guitars from the back of the van and they spent an enjoyable couple hours throwing verses and rhythms back and forth. By the end of it, they had the bones of a quirky, offbeat humorous song about a runaway robot. 

A little ways into their afternoon, an older woman, grey haired and matronly, wandered into the park and sat down at one of the benches. She pulled out a book and seemed to be content to read. Occasionally she would glance indulgently at the gang’s merriment. 

After they were ready to get back on the road and the older woman came over. 

“That was lovely music you played,” the woman said. 

“Thank you!” Daphne said, while Fred and Shaggy finished putting their instruments away. “I hope we didn’t bother you with our music.”

“No it was more than welcome. This sleepy old town could use some excitement, even if it’s only for one afternoon.”

“Glad we could help,” Velma joined the conversation. “Are you from around here?”

“Yes. My name is Myra Williams. I’ve been here for a long time.”

“Oh, are you a descendant of Mr. Silas Williams and his wife? Were you named for Myra Ann Williams?”

“In a manner of speaking,” the woman nodded with a secret smile. “Well, you look like you’re about on your way. Safe travels. Thank you for visiting Williamsburg.”

Daphne and Velma bid farewell to the older woman. 

They mentioned the encounter to Fred and Shaggy. “She seemed like a nice lady.” 

“She looked familiar for some reason,” Shaggy said, putting a finger to his temple. “Like I wonder why.” 

**Two.**

On the way from New Orleans to Savannah (Mystery Inc. had been invited to visit Daphne’s cousin, who worked and lived in the historic city), they stopped by a quiet riverbank for a lunchtime picnic. They made quick work of the roast beef sandwiches (falafel for Shaggy), potato salad, and roasted vegetables, the last of which disappeared down Scooby-Doo’s gullet while Shaggy wasn’t looking. 

Shaggy, distracted by a sea bird, did a double take when he saw the empty potato salad container. “Like, I thought there was more.”

Scooby-Doo covered his guffaws with a paw. 

Daphne just shook his head. “Don’t worry, Shaggy, we should make it to Savannah just in time for dinner. We can go to Benjamin’s restaurant for dinner.”

“That sounds groovy, Daphne.” Fred agreed. “He’s the one with the Pok-pok restaurant, right?“

“Yes,” Daphne affirmed. “Luckily he takes Scooby and Shaggys appetite as a challenge.”

“He’s the best.” Shaggy had a dreamy look on his face, remembering the last time the gang had made a circuit of the relatives in this area.

“We still have a lot of time left to get to Savannah. We’ve only got a little over an hour left until we get there, according to the map.” Velma added.

“Does anyone want to practice?” Fred asked. “Beachfront has been bugging us for another album.” 

“Sure, Freddie. That sounds like a great idea.” Daphne agreed.

They grabbed their instruments and set up to practice. It was a warm spring day, not blazingly hot but the humidity was rising as summer neared. They started with Charlie the robot’s song and moved on to a couple others that they had been working on. 

“Like what rhymes with ‘program’ as in rogue computer program?” Shaggy asked as they worked on a song about being stuck in cyberspace.

Velma and Daphne thought for a moment while Fred worked on the riffs for the base part. 

A loud giggle interrupted anything the two girls were going to say. “Exam, round clam, potsdam, grand slam?” Another unfamiliar voice suggested.

“Grand slam, that’s it! Thanks Daphne, Velma.” Shaggy cried without looking up as he quickly scribbled some lyrics onto a piece of paper.

“That wasn’t us, Shaggy.” Velma pointed out.

“What?” Shaggy said. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t resist!” 

The gang looked over and saw a group of young women, in swim wear, floating gently down the river in an assortment of fluorescent inner tubes and floaties. Their lower bodies were submerged underwater but the upper bodies were adorned in an array of colorful bikinis. One of them, a brunette in a blue bikini, waved cheerfully. “Your music is really good!”

“Thanks!” Fred waved back. “Glad you enjoyed it!”

“Are you guys a band?” Another shouted.

“Yeah. We’re The Meddling Kids.” Fred responded. 

“Cool!” 

The current pushed the women along and they waved goodbye as the river pulled them out of sight.

“Bye!!!” 

“I’ll look up your band!”

“Keep playing awesome music!”

“Your dog is so cute!”

**Three.**

This time around Mystery Inc. ended up at a nature preserve in China on one of the gang’s many travels around the world. Velma had brought them here, to visit a friend working at a Panda Preserve hidden deep in the south of the country, in the Sichuan Province.

Fred drove their van, which garnered a lot of double takes in the rugged, isolated landscape at the edge of the Tibeatan Plateau. They climbed and climbed, the road bracketed on either side by lush, thick, green vegetation, with the occasional drop off on one side. 

The Panda Preserve was normally closed to visitors, but Velma’s friend, Feng Jiao, had wrangled them an invite to gawp at China’s most famous bears. The black and white bear was mostly herbivorous, eating a truly spectacular amount of bamboo shoots. 

They spent a week in a blissful existence where they helped Jiao and the other scientists study and document the behavior of the pandas. It was, almost as if by magic, a beautifully mystery-free vacation. 

The one thing of note was the birds. 

Occasionally one of the gang would catch sight of bright plumage out of the corner of the eye. Iridescent feathers, long tails, and a lovely, haunting trill caught on the summer breeze. 

A new species of bird, one of Jiao’s colleagues remarked when asked. The scientists, as scientists do, had tried to record this new species. They even called in ornithology experts from China’s leading universities. However, whenever someone tried to document one of the birds, suddenly they were nowhere to be seen. Not one had been captured on film. The ornithologists left empty handed, not even a feather left behind. 

During the week Mystery Inc. was there, the birds wouldn’t leave them alone. 

Daphne and Velma noticed it first. More and more flashes of color from behind the foliage. One bird, two birds, even five to ten of the chicken sized birds with exceptionally long and brightly colored tails. 

It almost seemed like birds appeared most when one of the gang was humming or singing. Daphne was nursing a baby panda, a recent rescue, and singing a lullaby. When she turned around seven of the mysterious birds were staring at her.

Sometimes it even seemed as though the birds were singing along to their songs, adding their lilting trills to the rhythm. 

On the final day of the gang’s visit, they played an impromptu concert for the scientists as thanks. 

Behind the scientists’ backs, the entire forest was alight in a riot of colors. Reds, blues yellows, purple. The Meddling Kids sang with a whole forest of mysterious birds as back up.

**Four.**

Another road trip, another mystery. Miguel, one of Shaggy’s fellow sandcastle aficionados, had invited Shaggy, and by default the rest of Mystery Inc., to compete in a sandcastle building competition in Mexico. It was held near Cancun, along the picture perfect waters of the Gulf of Mexico. 

Thankfully, unlike that time in Australia, the mystery didn’t have anything to do with the sandcastle competition. Rather, a well known Mayan archaeological site was being haunted by the ghost of an ancient Mayan king.

“Looks like we’ve got another mystery on our hands gang!” Freddie announced with obvious glee. “Let’s split up and search for clues.”

“Like, I sometimes think he goes through withdrawal when he can’t say his catchphrases,” Shaggy commented jokingly to Velma. 

“Shhh, he’s having a moment!” Velma shushed. 

“Velma, Daphne, you and I will investigate the temple. That’s where most of the sightings have been. Shaggy, you and Scoob can go talk to the curator about the ghost sightings.”

After determining the ghost was known to haunt at night and scare the employees, Fred had them lay a trap for the ghost, using Shaggy and Scooby as bait, of course. 

“I think I’m sensing a pattern here Scooby,” Shaggy said forlornly to his best friend. “Why is it always us?” 

“Ron’t know,” Scooby said. 

“You and Scooby have got to be loud, Shaggy,” Fred whisper-yelled from the closest bush to them. “We have to draw the ghost’s attention here. Then we can trip him up with our rope trap and send him into the rubber trees.”

“Roger that, Freddie. But like, how do you suggest we do that?” Shaggy said.

“Sing something!” Daphne suggested helpfully from a neighboring bush.

“Like what?”

“The Mexican National Anthem!” Velma said from a bush to the right of Fred’s bush. “We were just practicing that, since Miguel asked if we could it with sing with his friend's local band for the Sandcastle competition.” 

Shaggy looked at his partner in crime. Scooby shrugged back and summoned a guitar out of no-where. 

“Right. It’s as good an idea as any.” Shaggy muttered to Scooby. “Ready, partner?”

“Ready!” 

Shaggy took a deep breath and then began to sing. 

_“Mexicanos, al grito de guerra / el acero aprestad y el bridón. / Y retiemble en sus centros la Tierra, / al sonoro rugir del cañón.”_

The forest seemed to quiet around them, listening to Shaggy give a soulful rendition of _Himno Nacional Mexicano_. 

Suddenly the forest around Shaggy started to hum, a gradual swell of low pitched buzzing. Shaggy wasn’t sure the cause until he caught sight of the swarm of fluttering blurs of colors. Hummingbirds, hundreds of them, the moonlight shining off their bright, shimmering, kaleidoscopic feathers, zipped through the sky. A couple circled around Shaggy. 

From the undergrowth, on the opposite side of the clearing from Fred, Daphne, and Velma’s bushes, a form lurked in the shadow. It was an absolutely enormous serpent, adorned in bright feathers that mimicked those of the hummingbirds that flew through the clearing. The serpent poked its head up, curiously examining the man and dog duo as they serenaded the night.

Before the gang could do more than gaze in wonder at the hummingbirds, the swarm, and the unseen serpent, disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. From further away in the forest, near the Mayan archaeological site, a moan sounded, the hallmark of the ghost of the Mayan king that others had described. 

The ghost appeared, the trap failed, and a chase ensued. By daybreak, everyone had been thoroughly distracted by the ghost, who eventually turned out to be a disgruntled employee with a particularly substandard costume.

“Now that I’m seeing it in the daylight like zoinks!” Shaggy cringed. “How did that fool us?”

The costume was a gaudy array of obviously-dyed feathers and fake fur. 

“Well it was dark…” Fred said, just as chagrin. 

“I wasn’t fooled for a moment. I can sense a fashion disaster of that magnitude from a mile off,” Daphne decreed. 

The rest of the gang didn’t call her on her own less than composed screams from the night before. 

**Five.**

They were on the road again, as was the norm for the gang, somewhere in Missouri between St. Louis and the Arkansas border. It was the heart of Americana, farmland as far as the eye could see, with the occasional clutch of forest and trees. They were on the way to visit Shaggy’s cousin in Memphis, who had invited them to play at a small music festival he organized. 

In a completely unsurprising turn of events, they had gotten lost on the way. They prefered to use paper maps and since they had spent so much time on the major highways, they usually took the smaller highways and byways to break up the monotony. More often enough than not, they got lost or turned around. Sometimes it took only a few minutes to get back on the right path; other times it took a day or two. 

This time, their progress was halted by the old reliable yet surprisingly temperamental Mystery Machine. On an old worn byway in the middle of no-where, pavement peeling, white lane lines long faded, and not a farmhouse in sight, it let out a burst of steam and petered out. Fred pulled the van off to the side and turned on the yield sign. 

A look at the engine revealed the problem was troublesome but fixable with a visit to an auto parts store. 

“I’ll be able to fix it once I have the proper part,” Fred explained as he wiped the grease off of his hands with a dirty rag. “But since it’s late, we might as well spend the night here. We just passed a camp ground a couple hundred yards back. We can stay there and in the morning call a tow truck.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Shaggy said. “Gee, it’s a good thing we already had dinner in the last town, but now I’m hungry for dessert.” 

“I think there are some makings for s’mores in the picnic basket,” Daphne remembered. “It’s still pretty early. We can make a campfire before we go to bed.”

A howl in the darkness sent Shaggy and Scooby into the arms of Fred and Velma. “Like Zoinks, what was that?” Shaggy asked through chattering teeth. 

“Probably just a farm dog,” Velma reasoned. 

“But but but -” Scooby pointed a shaking paw up at the full moon that shone brightly in the sky. “Rerewolf!” 

“Scooby-Doo is right! It’s the full moon tonight! It could be a werewolf! Or a pack of werewolves!” 

“I think we’ll be fine Scooby, Shaggy,” Daphne tried to comfort the cowardly twosome. “But,” she said slyly. “The sooner we set up camp the better, if you’re worried. A campfire would probably scare them away.” 

Dog and man were gone in a burst of dust, along with all their camping gear and the s’more supply filled picnic basket. 

Velma, Fred, and Daphne chuckled. 

“Is there anything else we need?” Velma asked, peering into the suddenly empty back bed of the van. 

“Why don’t you grab a guitar?” Fred suggested. “Music might distract the guys if the s’mores run out.” 

“Sounds good.” Velma retrieved their acoustic guitar, Fred locked the van, and they set off to catch up to their friends. 

It was late fall. Hunting had just ended so the rest of the campground was empty. By the time they caught up to their friends, Scooby and Shaggy had two tents set up and a blazing fire roaring. “Like hurry up guys! You don’t want to get eaten by werewolves!” 

“There are no such things as werewolves, Shaggy,” Velma tried to reassure. 

Shaggy gave her a disbelieving stare. “Yeah, sure.” He said, remarkably sarcastically. 

By the time all the s’mores had been made and eaten both Shaggy and Scooby had calmed down somewhat. They were brave enough to join in the campfire songs that Fred started strumming. Instead of playing their own songs, they traded off taking requests and singing silly songs they remembered from summer camps long passed. 

Another howl sounded, this one much closer. “Zoinks! It’s not working!” Shaggy cried. “It’s getting closer!”

“It’s fine guys,” Daphne said. “Werewolves don’t exist and we’re in the middle of Missouri. There aren’t any wolves out here. It’s probably just a stray dog.”

As if summoned, the gang heard the sound twigs and leaves being crunched underfoot before a shape emerged out of the forest. It was a canine with long white and brown hair and triangle shaped ears. It let out a friendly woof and flopped down next to Fred, it’s tongue lolling out to one side of its mouth. 

“Awww!” Daphne cried. “It looks like a Siberian Husky!” 

The canine rolled onto his back and stared at Fred with large, soulful brown eyes. He eagerly accepted Fred’s offer to scratch his belly. “He seems friendly enough.”

Another howl erupted from the trees, only this time, instead of one canine, five more canines moved slowly into the clearing. They were just as friendly. Two went up to Scooby and they traded scents, the other three flopped down next to the campfire. 

“It’s a whole pack of Siberian Huskies,” Velma said, somewhat bemused. “Do you think they belong to a farmer around here?”

“None of them are wearing collars.” Daphne observed. 

Shaggy eyed the canines wearily. “Like I don’t think they’re Huskies.”

“Of course they are Shaggy. What else could they be? There aren’t any wolves in this part of the country. There’s probably a Husky breeder around here and these guys made a break for it.” Daphne reasoned. 

“We can ask around town tomorrow, to see if anyone is missing their dogs.” Velma suggested, petting one of the canines.

Shaggy continues to eye the canines suspiciously, especially when one of them nudges Fred’s guitar, as though asking the blonde to continue playing.

The next morning the canines are gone. Inquiries made in the town they ended up in to fix the Mystery Machine yielded no results. There were no Siberian Husky breeders in the area and no one seemed to know anything about a pack of stray Siberian Huskies.

**Plus One.**

The Meddling Kids were headlining a concert at the Elsinore, a theater somewhere in a moderately sized city in the middle of the country. They had just finished a case of a man pretending to be a chupacabra in order to disguise a cattle rustling scheme. The perpetrator would steal sheep and goats and make it look like a chupacabra had devoured the animal whole to disguise the theft. 

Once the mystery had been wrapped up, they had offered to perform one of their impromptu concerts after the mayor of the city bemoaned they needed more money for their library. The Meddling Kids offered to play a benefit concert. 

The Elsinore was an old theater. It was in the heart of the historic downtown. Unlike other downtowns in America, this one had remained relatively intact. The Elisnore was clearly an original feature; it’s Art Deco style, full of parallel and perpendicular lines, chevrons, and other geometric designs, dated the building to the 1920’s. 

The concert was slated to start at 7:30 pm. They finished the sound check earlier that day and so now all they had to do was wait for the audience to arrive and the show to start. A couple small local bands (including this year’s winner of the local high school’s Battle of the Bands contest), had volunteered to be warm up acts.

The stage manager, who was also the mayor’s fiercely competent wife, had given them a large dressing room to use. 

They were killing time now in their dressing room/waiting room when someone knocked on the door. 

“Come in!” Fred called. 

An older man entered. Shaggy recognized him as someone of the periphery of the room when they had been performing the sound check. He looked completely comfortable in the space. He was dressed in black slacks, a white button up shirt, a flamboyant teal colored dinner jacket, and a matching bowtie.

He introduced himself as Carl Abernathy. “I’ve been here a long time. I always enjoy seeing new music groups come through the Elsinore.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Abernathy.” Fred said as they shook hands all around. “We’re glad to be here.” 

“How long have you been working at this theater?” Velma asked.

“Gee, sometimes it feels like my whole life. My family started the place. Way back then it was an old Vaudeville stage and since then we’ve undergone a series of renovations. It’s still got quite the charm though.”

“It’s a beautiful space.” Daphne compliment. “It’s in wonderful shape, considering it’s age.”

“The whole town put a lot of hard work and tears into the old gal. We even got a grant a couple years back when the facade needed to be restored. Well, I just wanted to tell you folks to break a leg! I’m not involved in the day-to-day running anymore, but I love to greet all the new acts.” 

“We’re glad to be here.” Fred said. “How many acts pass through?”

“Not as many as we used to get.” Carl looked rueful. “But boy howdy, back in the day we had all sorts stop in our little town. Why one time, we even had the Williams Brothers. Their visit was especially memorable. They got lost in the basement - the basement is a shared basement, with the other businesses on the street, goes back to when this was a bootlegger’s paradise -” Carl explained with the flair of an expert storyteller. 

Five minutes later he had the gang in stitches over the story, where one of the bands had gone into the basement and accidentally found a missing body, left over from the time when the building next door had been used as the city morgue. Even Shaggy and Scooby forgot to be scared due in no small part of Carl’s larger than life personality. 

Twenty minutes before they had to go on, Carl looked at the clock in the green room. “Well, I better let you folks get on with it. Curtain goes up in twenty.”

“Thanks, Mr. Abernathy!” Daphne said. “It sure was nice meeting you.” 

“Nice to meet you folks too,” Carl said, once again shaking hands with everyone. “You kids got a lot of talent and you’re doing a real good thing for the town. Everyone here appreciates it. Break a leg out there!”

* * *

The concert was a smashing success. Mystery Inc. was called back onstage for two encores and it took even longer for the happy citizens to trickle out of the theater. While the audience left, the gang packed up their instruments and left the stage crew to finish disassembling the sound equipment. 

Don Hammond, the Technical Director of the Elsinore, found them in a backstage hallway near the green room which was adorned floor to ceiling in photos, concert posters, and signed momentos of the acts that had performed in the theater. Shaggy and Daphne were looking at some of the older photos, black and white with hair styles that suggested a time long since passed. 

Don greeted them with elation. “That was marvelous kids! I just can’t thank you enough!” He pumped Fred’s hand in congratulations.

“No problem Mr. Hammond,” Fred replied. “We’re always happy to help.” 

“Rappy to Relp!” Scooby echoed, extending his paw out to shake hands next. 

Don took the paw with bemusement. “This is certainly a first for us; we’ve never had a band with a dog in it. But you were rocking on the drums!”

“Rog? Rhere?” Scooby said characteristically. 

“Like he means you, Scooby-Doo,” Shaggy elbowed his best friend in the stomach. 

Scooby guffawed. “Aww.”

“Do you know how much money was raised?” Fred asked. 

“We’re not too sure yet, but I heard we got more than enough for the library.”

“That’s great.” Velma said. 

Mr. Hammond noticed Daphne’s preoccupation with the wall of photos. “Oh, do you like our wall. These are all the acts that have performed at the Elsinore. Most now days are music acts, but back when this was a vaudeville stage we used to have all sorts. 

“It’s a neat way to record the Elsinore’s history.” Daphne said. Her eye caught on an old, black and white photo of Carl Abernathy next to a music group. “This looks like the man we met earlier.” 

“Who? Which one?” Don Hammond asked, peering over Daphne’s shoulder. 

“That one,” Daphne used her finder to trace Carl Abernathy’s smiling face. 

“Carl? Carl Abernathy?” Don’s face was troubled. “Sorry Daphne but that’s not possible. Carl passed away in 2005.”

“What?” Daphne gasped. “But I could have sworn…”

She trailed off as Don shook his head sadly. “Carl was the heart and soul of this theater. It took us a long time to recover after he passed. His grandfather started this place in 1905 and Carl ran it for 52 years. He used to greet every band and singer - had them laughing like old friends after five minutes of meeting them.”

“He sounds like a swell guy.” Shaggy thought about the smiling man in the teal jacket. Fred, Daphne, and Velma seemed frozen in shock. Shaggy rallied first, thinking about the crazy things, seen and unseen, they had experienced over a long career in mystery solving.

Shaggy decided to test his theory. “Hey, Don. We heard a crazy rumor from one of the stage hands. They said this place is haunted by this old skeleton someone found here years ago.” 

Don chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Us theater folks are naturally superstitious - we’ve got ghost lights and curses and ill omens. It certainly doesn’t help that that rumor is based on truth.”

“Really?” 

“Yep. The building next to us used to be the city morgue in the twenties and thirties. One of their bodies got misplaced when they were redoing the basement, a basement we share with them. Unfortunately one of our visiting acts just happened to find it back in the 1980’s. It scared the heebe jeebes out of them. Carl thought the whole thing was hilarious.” 

“But even with that, the theater isn’t haunted?”

“No, sir. We have had absolutely no ghost sightings reported, not even when we did the Scottish Play.”

“Fhew!” Shaggy wiped his forehead in mock relief. “Thank goodness for that!” 

Don stayed a while more, chatting mostly with Shaggy and Scooby as the other three processed their encounter. Once the stage crew was done, the gang departed for their hotel. 

They had rented two rooms, the girls in one room, the guys in the other. When they got back to the hotel, they all congregated in the guys’ room. 

“He was a ghost, right?” Daphne broke the silence. “Tell me I wasn’t imagining any of that.” 

“If you did, we all imagined it together.” Fred said. 

“We didn’t imagine it. How else would we have known the story about the morgue? Besides,” Shaggy stopped, looking around guiltily. “We all know ghosts exist and cat gods and zombies.”

“That’s right!” Velma said. “How could we have forgotten?”

“I don’t think it was entirely your fault Velma.” Shaggy said. “Like, I think we’re supposed to forget.”

For the longest time the truth of the supernatural had remained unspoken after the events in Oak Haven and on Moonscar Island. Fred and the girls had brushed it off after the initial panic receded, as though spelled to forget. 

“We?”

“Normal humans.” Shaggy said reasonably. “We all remember Sarah Ravencroft, and the Mayor and Mr. McKnight, and Thorn, Dusk, and Luna all had the same experience but it’s like it got fuzzy after proper reflection.” 

“You’re right.” Daphne said. “And with Bo. All of the audience heard his interview, and everyone seemed convinced, but then it’s like everyone forgot about it right after it happened.” 

“Yes, that makes sense,” Velma murmured to herself. “It’s a self defense mechanism to hide from those not in the known.”

“Hold it,” Daphne interjected. “How come you’re not surprised?”

“We’ve always believed in the supernatural.” Shaggy pointed it out. “You guys are the ones telling us there are no such things as monsters. For us there’s no suspension of disbelief. We’ve believed for a long time. Plus…” Shaggy trailed off guiltily. “We’ve run into other stuff - vampires and werewolves and ghosts - and we never forgot. And Scooby’s a pretty unique guy. I always figured that had something to do with it. Didn’t really pay attention.”

“You're right about Scooby,” Fred agreed. “And now that I’m reminded of that witch’s ghost and Lena and Simone being whatever they were it all seems so much clearer. It feels like I was in a fog.”

“A fog that’s slowly clearing,” Daphne agreed. 

“But why?” Velma wanted to know. 

“No idea.” Shaggy said. 

“What do we do now?” Fred asked. 

“Nothing?” Shaggy said, much more sanguine about the whole affair than Fred, Daphne, or Velma. “I mean, the supernatural exists? They’re just people. Sure Ben Ravencroft was nutty, but the Boo Brothers and Miss Grimwood, Sibella, Phanny, Winnie, Elsa, and Tanis were all really nice. Scrappy still exchanges mail with Miss Grimwood’s pet dragon, Matches.” 

“He does what?” Velma asked. 

“Clearly we missed a lot when Shaggy traveled with Scooby and Scrappy.” Fred muttered to Daphne under his breath. 

“I don’t think we need to do anything,” Daphne said. “But we’re curious, Shaggy. For Fred, Velma and I, this is our first real experience with any supernatural being that wasn’t trying to harm us. Is this going to keep happening?

“It might?” Shaggy said. “I guess we’ll see?” 

Famous last words.

**Author's Note:**

> A couple notes: 
> 
> Casey Kasem, the original voice actor of Shaggy who reprised the role in the 2002 TV show What's New Scooby Doo?, was a staunch vegan and lobbied hard for the character Shaggy to be a vegetarian. Sadly that was not in the original 1979 show, but Kasem's wish did make it into the 2002 sequel. 
> 
> Go google Siberian Huskey vs. Wolf. In my mind, in dim firelight, I think Daphne, Velma, and Fred could be forgiven for making the mistaken identification.
> 
> The Elsinore is a real theater, located in Salem, Oregon. The name is taken from Hamlet, where the Elsinore is the name of the Castle.


End file.
